The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Grey Dawn 
by Kai Wilson 

I’d been waiting outside as twilight fell, in a pool of increasing darkness. As the grey dusk fled ahead of the night like a hare pursued by foxes, I adjusted my position and looked around, ensuring that in the deep pool of darkness I’d chosen, there were no streetlights near me. A pool of light beaconed from a patch of pavement ahead, but I shrank back into the dark. I was shivering, so I reached into my pocket, running my fingers across the engraved symbols on the taser secreted in my pocket.

I’d been watching for the right weather for weeks – a cold but not wet, or snowy night. I could live with a little drizzle, but I didn’t want it pouring rain, The person I was waiting for didn’t leave the house when it rained. I had a theory why, but he was so fastidious about it, I never got to test it. Depending on what he does tonight, I might find out, I thought to myself, then looked around once more.  I could hear a car approaching – but it wouldn’t be the person I was waiting for.  I stepped back a bit, against the tree, my drab clothes hopefully providing enough cover.  The car swept past, it’s headlights like a fanfare of light ahead of it, and washed briefly over me, though I was facing the other way, preserving my night vision. As the sound of the passage of the car died, I heard off-key whistling, the unsteady footsteps heralding a pop of louder whistling.

I had come prepared, but, because of the lights nearby, I had to stand further down than I liked. And I had to stay still for longer than I’d intended, until he was passed me, and out into the next pool of light. Pulling my fur lined hood slightly more forward, I stepped out, head down, peeking out from under the faux fur lining, while pretending to huddle in the chill night, as if I belonged there.

He walked ahead and didn’t even notice me.  His off-key whistling and unsteady steps became louder, and less organised and he slowed.  I didn’t and continued walking, bumping him as I caught up with him.

“‘scuse…” he said, then hiccupped. I might have been imagining it, but I could smell the reek of alcohol, sharp and pungent. But there was something underneath – something rotten.  I held myself in check and didn’t wince back. 
“Oh, I’m sorry!” I said, affecting a falsetto.  My hands tightened around the weapon in my pocket, but he just stumbled, staggered a little and patted the air.
“My fault, my fault,” he said and patted my arm.  I winced and tensed, my stomach clenching around the scream that would destroy it all. But after that, I passed him, he didn’t grab me, and so, I was just in front of him when he staggered up his path.  I almost couldn’t tell how far ahead of him I was, but I’d tied a small tripwire, and he stumbled, sliding into the first part of the trap. I whirled around, as he tried to pick himself up – so drunk he didn’t question what had caught him. He righted himself, and continued walking to his door, casting a confused, drunken gaze back I watched, between two lights, as he staggered up his path, to his door, and fumbled, drunk-key rattles and scrapes before he finally got his door open.  By that time, I was up the path behind him, shoved him through his opening door, holding his collar, and pulling the taser.

I almost thought I had him too, but for a drunk, his reflexes suddenly became so much better. His elbow came back and impacted against my ribs, but I was already pressing the taser to the side of his neck. He started laughing, but the actinic crackle of noise, the sudden smell of ozone, and the sudden buckle of his legs told me I’d gotten him. I fell with him though, landing on top of him.  The taser landed on his arm, and I could hear a sizzling.
In the space of a blink, he whipped around, eyes as dark as holes into an abyss, tinged red as if kindling a fire. “That was…” it grated, “a mistake…” Its eyes lit radioactive bright, and it flicked the taser back towards me, revealing burned symbols and tattered skin. I was already unzipping my jacket, revealing a Kevlar vest and an ornate cross.

“Demon, I excise you.  Give me my father back!” I screamed in its face, raising the cross.

It was the last thing I did. I had a brief impression of it springing at me, throwing me against the door, then….nothing.

.

Fiction © Copyright D. Kai Wilson-Viola
Image Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose

About Author Kai Wilson:

D Kai Wilson-Viola, writing as Sabrann Curach, has three free stories currently available for download, ahead of her reissue books.

Her free books can be downloaded at https://SO.booksbykai.com/readermagnets, while Memento Mori returns soon.